Before I confess, I'd like to say thank you. Thank you for all of your warm and thoughtful comments and email about the loss of our beloved dog Jackson. I was truly comforted by the virtual hugs and well wishes sent our way.
It was a sad day. Jackson had been ailing for a while but the last five days he was unable to eat and things were getting worse. On Wednesday morning I couldn't get him to stand up to go out for a walk. When Sean (Jake's dad and my ex-husband) and I decided what needed to be done, he went and picked Jake up from school and brought him to the veterinarian. Jackson died while lying on a soft blanket on the floor with his gigantic head in my lap while Sean Jake Niall and I recounted thirteen years of goofy dog escapades. Jake decided that Jackson would be in dog heaven soon with Buddy and that his hearing would return. He says that dogs in heaven don't wear leashes and eat meat all day long (Jack really loved meat).
In moments like these we (and by we, I mean mothers) don't think of ourselves and our own grief or misgivings. It's all about our children. I just wanted to make sure that Jake had no regrets. We were lucky enough to have the chance for him to say goodbye and for that we are all grateful. Jake chose to be there when it actually happened and I think that will help him to remember Jackson at peace. I was amazed (although I'm not sure why) at how, well, human Jake was through it all. His grief and sorrow was so understandable and plain. It was interrupted by laughter at a memory or a question about the process. He needed comforting and space. Just like an actual person with actual needs. My boy is his own person and I couldn't be more proud of him.
Now for that confession. I hate Halloween.
There are no ghouls or skeletons at our house. For me Halloween is akin to secretary's day or grandparent's day. A fabricated holiday derived from rituals that have absolutely nothing to do with modern life. We stress and sew costumes — or even worse, spend much too much money on them — and argue with our kids about their nightly allotment of sugar for weeks to come (until the stash magically disappears).
If you'd like to remove me from your reader now or boycott my blog, so be it. I'm just keeping it real (to quote a favorite blogger). I'm not saying I don't do it. I do. The pizza is ordered (you've got to feed them before sending them out to battle). I've got pumpkin cake at the ready and gobs of candy (I'd give out pretzels or apples but I don't want to be 'that' house). I've got four 10-year-olds using me as home base and I had three cups of coffee today. I'm ready.
Adorable handknitted pumpkin hats, by the way, don't count.